Finally Anew
by Reminiscent Lullaby
Summary: A few months after giving up Hawk Moth, Gabriel contemplates his next step, and more importantly, the person he wants to take it with. The New Year is coming, and it's time for a change.


**Hello, everyone! **

**Here is my holiday contribution. It's a bit of an epilogue to The Beginning of Goodbye. I have more stuff planned, including another one-shot and a multi-chapter fic currently in the outlining stage (and putting up quite the fight). So, in the next couple months, you could expect some more to come from this story. I'm having a lot of fun with it. **

**I hope you enjoy! Happy Holidays! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir**

* * *

In four months, nothing had really changed.

Gabriel was beginning to think that the problem was the house. Its walls didn't move, after all, the floor never shifted beneath his feet. The air was cool, and it was still, and every now and then, when the front door opened and shut upon somebody's arrival, a breeze from the outside world would enter and disperse through all the open space and make it, for a second, a little less familiar. Yet, never did an intrusion do enough to alter the chemistry of the beast, which held Gabriel in its maw like he was a tooth, rooted and sharp.

He liked walls. He would always like walls. And the comfort of being out of the world's reach. But unfortunately, he felt as though the house possessed a grip of its own, and he was only just noticing it. He would enter a room and close the door behind him and somehow still feel as though he was standing out in the open. Were the walls made of glass, or was his skin? Either way, he felt seen, even when there was no one around.

There was a simple explanation. The house was haunted. Not literally, of course, though Gabriel wondered if such a thought was so far-fetched given everything he had witnessed. Truly, history was alive, and it permeated the air, made things impossible to forget, reopened wounds, flowed through his lungs and seeped into his bloodstream. Gabriel didn't know how much longer he would last before he suffocated on memory.

On some days, rare days, change was visible. He did not feel it among them, but he could see it on the horizon like a cloud of light, catching the colors of something yet to show its face around the curve of the earth. Adrien's smiles seemed a little less hollow, perhaps, they even felt sincere. But that sincerity – he cursed himself for his pathetic cowardice – often frightened him. Was it too soon to be forgiven? Was it too soon to want that change out loud? And every time those thoughts forced his head to turn away, he wondered if he had just let something slip needlessly out of his grip, because then Adrien's smiles might disappear.

It must be himself who let the ghosts inside.

At the corner of his eye, warm white Christmas lights glittered through the dark foyer. A glass of tart white wine sat perched in his hand as he stood at the window, looking out into the night. It was a snowless Christmas Eve. The sky was mostly clear, and a waxing moon was rising high above the buildings across the road. Thin, wispy clouds shrouded it weakly, catching a pale, yellow glow that broadly lightened the sky.

He had been standing there for about fifteen minutes, just staring, every once in a while bringing the drink to his lips and letting it slide hotly down his throat. In the other room, he had turned on some music, which just barely washed over him now.

Bright headlights shone onto the property as the gate swung open. Gabriel stepped away from the window when a car rolled into view, and he took a stance by the tree at the bottom of the stairs. He swirled what remained of the contents of his drink and finished them off. Outside, Gabriel heard the cheerful shout of his son wishing the bodyguard a Merry Christmas and the slamming of a car door before the sedan pulled away and the yard darkened once more. He set his glass aside and positioned his hands behind his back.

"Adrien," he greeted upon the door opening. "You're later than I anticipated."

"Sorry," The boy was unwrapping a thick scarf from around his neck. In his hand he held three boxes; one was simple white cardboard, held closed by a sticker signifying the Dupain-Cheng patisserie, its place of origin. The other boxes were stacked on the first, smaller and fancier, complete with silver gift wraps and ribbons. "I was busy. Last minute rush."

"Yes, of course. Next time, text me if you're not going to be back on time."

"I will. I had my hands full."

"Do you need help?"

Adrien shook his head and merely set the boxes briefly on the floor to remove his coat, and Gabriel noticed with an amused twitch in his lip that his son's jeans were dusted with flour, and perhaps, that was a smear of chocolate on the neckline of his sweater.

"You're not particularly neat, are you?"

Adrien hung his coat and retrieved the boxes. Not looking at Gabriel, he replied, "You can't walk out of there without getting something on your clothes. Working or no. One minute." He disappeared into the dining hall and returned without the larger white box. "Those were some almond croissants. Just half a dozen. They tried to give me even more for free, but I had to cut them off with that."

"That's nice of them."

"They're insanely nice people," Adrien told him with a grin. Gabriel expected nothing less. For months now, he was spending most of his free time with the Dupain-Chengs, particularly Marinette. He had offered to help them out at the patisserie for the holidays, and it seemed that for the last week, he was rarely anywhere else. He came home tired but grinning. Spending time with Marinette always inflated his mood, and there was never an easier time to speak with him than after he returned from her side. Otherwise, Gabriel felt the glare of the house too strongly. It resembled Adrien's when he was unhappy.

As Adrien removed his heavy boots with one hand, the other still balancing the two silver boxes, he asked his father, "Is Nathalie still here? I told her I had one of these for her."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You had a moment to text her about a gift while you were working, but not to let me know you were going to be forty-five minutes late?"

He could see his son struggling not to roll his eyes, opting instead to blink rapidly. "Father, can we please not go there tonight?"

"My point is that communication with me is important. Even if you find it unpleasant."

"No – I was going to text you, like, an hour ago. I got caught up. I'd gotten to Nathalie long before that, okay?" Adrien's voice was level, but prickly. Gabriel suppressed the urge to snap back, wondering if he really was being unreasonable. "Anyway, is she still here?"

"She's here." He gestured to the atelier door. "Just knock. She's finishing up some work. She'll be out in a minute."

"Thanks, that's all I needed." After leaving two polite raps at the door, Adrien approached the tree, for a moment, allowing its twinkling lights to dance through his leaf-green eyes before his gaze flicked back to his father. In an instant, he'd shifted from a child to a young man. He had grown so much during the last year, and Gabriel wondered how much of that time had occurred only since August; he was certain he himself had aged significantly in that span of time. A few seconds of silence passed between them before Adrien looked down at his clothes. "Ugh, I need a shower."

"Desperately."

"I hope you don't mind," Adrien said, "that I only brought you something from the patisserie. I don't have another gift."

"That's okay," Gabriel replied. "Don't worry about it."

"I just didn't know what…"

"It's perfectly alright."

A moment later, Nathalie emerged from the atelier. Gabriel – he couldn't help it – felt the corners of his lips lift upon seeing her, and though he had caught the change, he hadn't caught its nature, whether it was poignant or sympathetic or pleased or something in between. Unlike the two of them, Nathalie only had seemed to become younger over the last few months as she had become healthier. Although, to their collective vexation, she was still rather far from her full strength. Most of her symptoms had disappeared but for a few sparse and unpredictable appearances, though fatigue seemed adamant to trouble her ceaselessly. All she cared about was that she was able to get from place to place without worrying that a coughing fit would stop her in her tracks. If it did, it was rare and fleeting, springing quite literally out of nowhere. Every couple weeks, she was inexplicably nauseous or dizzy, but luckily, it was rarely to the extent that she had grown used to. Nathalie's purse was slung over her shoulder, and she looked upon them both with affection in her blue eyes. In the soft light, they looked violet, a detail Gabriel never used to notice.

Joining them by the tree, she asked Adrien, "How was work?"

"Busy but fun. You?"

"Not as busy. Probably not as fun." She reached out a hand towards Adrien's sweater, where the chocolate was staining the neckline, but her hand stalled in midair and fell down to her side. "That'll come out, I'm sure," she murmured shyly.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting. You've probably been wanting to go home."

"I don't mind. I wanted the chance to wish you a Merry Christmas anyway." Nathalie smiled at Adrien fondly, and Gabriel felt a swirl of warmth in his chest that the two of them were still close despite everything. Adrien had been very concerned with her condition, offering to care for her on the more difficult days. He was especially invested in whether she was eating, which led to a stretch of time, before either he or Gabriel felt secure enough in her health to let her return to her apartment at night, where she ate with them. Even now that she left in the evenings, Gabriel and Adrien had managed to make a routine of dining together at least once a day. Though these meals had ceased to be silent, they were still cold. Something had been lost when Nathalie stopped joining them.

At the thought, Gabriel's brow furrowed. He couldn't lie to himself and say that he didn't wish Nathalie was part of their family, but he doubted they were ready for it. Not while he and his son could still barely handle remaining in the same room for too long. Gabriel told himself that needed to be fixed first. He didn't want to run to Nathalie and hope she could mend everything when she had already done so much. He felt cowardly considering it – and yet, he had to wonder if living in this unchanging space would ever allow himself and his son to move forward.

More likely, he was just weak.

Gabriel blinked when he realized Adrien was holding one of the boxes out for him to take.

"They're domed tartlets," Adrien explained to the both of them as Nathalie admired the bow on her box. "I wanted to get them in your guys' favorite flavor combinations. They don't sell these kinds in the store. I actually helped make them – don't open it until you get home," he said to Nathalie. "They're not the neatest work. Marinette may have laughed at me. Anyway, yours is mocha and cinnamon with a chocolate pastry. And Father, you have a coconut, raspberry, and white chocolate."

"Tempting," he replied. Gabriel wasn't much for sweets, but every now and then it was nice to have something to indulge in. He was impressed Adrien was so certain of both their preferred flavors. He hadn't remembered being asked. "Thank you, Adrien."

"Thank you," Nathalie echoed. She placed the box carefully in her purse. "I'm sure it tastes and looks lovely." She offered Adrien a hug. His surprised expression told Gabriel that it was the first they shared since the truth had come out. Drawing away quickly, Nathalie added, "That's very sweet of you."

"It's not much…"

"Had I known earlier you would be doing something like this –"

"Don't worry about it, Nathalie," he told her quietly, beaming. "It's Christmas."

Adrien gave his father a hug as well, a very brief, very strange hug, and they might as well have been waving at each other from across the room. Gabriel couldn't help but wonder as his son stepped away with a solemn visage if the feeling was his own fault. He felt the eyes of the walls of the back of his neck and his face contorting in discomfort.

Upon stepping away, Adrien's eyes drifted down to his clothes. "Sorry, I hope I didn't get flour on either of you. I'm going to go shower and change. Thanks again for waiting, Nathalie. I hope you have a good Christmas."

"You as well, Adrien," she wished softly.

He left her with a smile and climbed the stairs to his room. Left under the tree at Nathalie's side, Gabriel turned to face her. Their eyes met, and the softness of her features and glossy irises made him quickly realize he didn't know what to say.

"Are you…" she murmured, and then looked away, "going to give him his gift tomorrow?"

"That's what I was planning."

"They're very thoughtful, you know. It will mean a lot to him."

"I don't want him to –"

"To what?"

He glanced between his feet. "To be…unimpressed."

Emphatically, she insisted, "He'll _love_them."

"They're not special. They're just hats." Two knitted hats, one black with bright green thread delicately woven through the fold and cat ears sprouting from the top, the other dark red with numerous black spots. He had worked on them on nights when he had trouble sleeping, when the oppressive stare of the house, the cold at his side, and the cold in his heart was too much to ignore.

"That you made by hand. For him and Marinette, of course that's special," she said. Gabriel raised his head when he felt her hand on his arm and paused just to feel her touch, a touch he had been aching for over several months. "You should give yourself more credit."

Gravely, he sighed, "I haven't earned much yet."

"Well, if not, then you're certainly getting there. You're closer than you think." She appeared anxious all the sudden, and she cracked her knuckles, drawing her hand away. Gabriel watched her for a moment, and then prompted her with a gentle nudge on her shoulder. She looked like she had more to say. At once, she blurted, "Speaking of gifts, I –" Nathalie reached into her purse and pulled out a box, smaller than the one Adrien had given her. It too was wrapped and decorated with a ribbon, a purple one, " – before I go –" She held it out for Gabriel to take.

"You didn't have to –"

"I wanted to," she insisted, and he accepted the gift. She watched sheepishly, as he removed the ribbon and unwrapped the box. "I saw it and I – well, I thought of you."

It was velvet jewelry case, the kind that would hold a ring or a pair of earrings. Gabriel's eyes flicked up to see her nervously chew on the inside of her cheek. Returning his gaze to his hands, he slowly opened the box to unveil –

Gabriel heard himself inhale sharply.

A butterfly.

Well, more accurately, it was butterfly shaped. Lavender stones lined its narrow body, from which shiny silver wings sprouted, perpetually open to reveal a delicate engraving, the pattern ornate and detailed, reminding him somewhat of leaves being carried through the wind. It was a lovely brooch, and it looked rather expensive as well, Gabriel plucked it from the box and held it between his thumb and forefinger. The Christmas lights splashed against its silver surface, glowing faintly, beautifully.

He looked back at Nathalie, who now appeared even more fearful, her eyes wide and frantically trying to read the expression on his face.

"Nathalie," he said.

"Yes?"

"You tell me not to be nervous about my own gift and then you appear this way?"

She seemed alarmed. "I –"

"It's lovely."

"Do you not hate it?"

"Hate it?" he blinked at her, with a slight tilt to his head. "Why would I hate it?"

"I didn't know if –" she glanced away, folding her arms, " – if you would find it – insensitive."

"I don't."

"If you would find that it brings up poor memories."

"Nathalie –"

"I know you miss Nooroo," she finally said. She studied the floor, the space between their feet. Gabriel stared at her, surprised, incapable of forming a reply for multiple seconds. Just as he had opened his mouth, she went on, "You would probably never admit it, but I can tell you miss him. You know, sometimes, your hand goes to your chest, like this." Nathalie gestured him reaching for his necktie, and he watched the way her fist gently closed and opened again, the curl of her slender fingers. "And – not so much anymore, but a few months ago – you would glance over your shoulder, like you were looking for him. So, I thought this would be a nice reminder."

Gabriel closed the brooch in his hand and felt its pleasantly cool metal against his palm. He reached for her shoulder, and only when he had touched her did she raise her eyes back to him. "Nathalie, my dear, it's…" He paused upon catching the spark that fluttered through her dilated pupils. "It's amazing, truly. I wish I had it in me to be half as thoughtful as this."

Breathlessly, she whispered, "Oh, I think you do."

He didn't notice the way they drifted closer to each other, and the way he ceased to feel the pressure of the brooch in his fist. He didn't notice that a finger twitched, wanting to draw itself down the line of her face, or that it very nearly did. "Thank you, Nathalie."

But she seemed to notice. Something in her eyes changed and she stepped away from his touch. In a stifled tone she said, "You're welcome." She hiked her purse up her shoulder and added, "Merry Christmas, Gabriel."

"Merry Christmas, Nathalie."

She held his stare for a moment too long before inhaling sharply and turning away. When the front door clicked shut behind her, Gabriel sank into the chair beneath him, and stared between the walls closing him in this wide, empty foyer.

In four months, nothing had really changed.

* * *

It hadn't snowed on Christmas, but a gentle flurry was drifting from the smoke-colored night sky on New Year's Eve. A few snowflakes caught on Adrien's red and black acrylic hat as he stepped out of the house towards the car waiting for him.

"One AM is not a suggestion, Adrien," Gabriel growled from the front door. "Be back no later. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," his son replied, not turning his head. Gabriel could see him trembling, whether from the cold or from excitement, he couldn't make out. "Do you need me to text every hour too?"

"No, just don't be _late_," he emphasized. "No excuses."

"Yeah, you got it." Adrien opened the car door and gave a single wave before shutting himself inside. The bodyguard offered a simple wave of his own before he pulled through the gate onto the street outside.

His son's first New Year's party. It had taken a solid three weeks of begging before Gabriel finally yielded. He might have given in sooner was the event taking place at the Bourgeois' or the Dupain-Cheng's, but unfortunately, Adrien would be spending the last several hours of the year at Nino's house, a party which was sure to be, based on the young man's affinity for unreasonably loud music and obnoxious crowds, more chaotic than Gabriel was very comfortable with. He had yet to forgive his son's friend for the absurd get-together he arranged in Adrien's bedroom, which had shut the power down in every other room of the house, including the below-ground sanctuary.

Gabriel swallowed hard and shut the door. For moment, he had enjoyed the chill, fresher air. Now, he closed himself once again within the walls of the house as his son took to other places and other people.

He returned to the atelier and paused upon seeing Nathalie gathering her tablet and her phone from her desk. She already had her coat on, her purse lay open beside her.

"Oh," he said, drawing her attention. "Were you leaving?"

"Yeah. I figured since I've finished everything you had lined up for me to today and Adrien's at that party, I might as well head home." She tossed her scarf around her neck. "Is that okay?"

"If that's what you prefer," he said, but she heard something in his voice that made her hesitate. Her eyes surveyed him expectantly, her grip on her tablet suddenly loose. "But, to be frank, I'd like you to stay."

"Stay?" she echoed.

"If you don't mind."

She set her things back down. "Did you have other tasks you needed me to accomplish?"

"No, I…" He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I just wanted to spend the evening with you."

Nathalie's gaze was unreadable, and Gabriel tried to ignore the bundle of nerves that had formed in his gut. She glanced away, looking at the wall for a moment, before she reached and undid her scarf.

"You don't have to," he reminded her, "If you had other plans, then –"

"I had no other plans, you know perfectly well," she replied with a bit of a bite, but when she finally turned back, there was actually a smile on her face. She removed her coat and laid it over the desk chair, smoothing out her blazer. "I'm happy to stay, actually, if that's what you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, honestly, I wasn't really looking forward to being alone tonight."

He smiled solemnly. "Me either."

For a moment they remained where they stood in tentative silence, half a room apart and unsure of what next to do or say. Then, Gabriel offered her tea.

"I'd love some."

They migrated to the dining room, but the warm drinks and gas fireplace did little to improve the mood between them. They tried, rather pathetically, to have a normal conversation, but for a couple nearly unbearable minutes, all either could think to talk about was tea. Gabriel was relieved Nathalie had brought her tablet occupy her. When the discussion faltered for the eighth time, she took to work instead, or at least pretended to. It made no difference to him, as long as the awkwardness was being cut off.

He pulled out his phone to read something that had been bookmarked for months, as a way to pass the hours. He was waiting for the right moment, and if the current tension was anything to go by, it hadn't arrived yet. His heart sank like a stone through mud, a tug of fear that he had made a mistake, that he was wasting her time. But he wanted her here. He wanted her closer.

His gaze drifted between his screen and Nathalie, who, by the ticking movement of her eyes across her own screen, was also reading. He realized he hadn't scrolled in minutes, because every time his attention returned to her, he would forget what he had read.

Gabriel was admiring how the pale firelight turned just her fly-away hairs to gold when she looked up and caught his stare.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"I've noticed," he said, "the red in your hair is fading."

Her hand brushed against the streak on the side of her head, which by now was just darker than rosé. "Yeah, I haven't even thought about touching it up."

"When was the last time you didn't have color in your hair?"

"Oh my gosh, I was probably nineteen or so? For a few years I tried several different colors. It all started because I bleached it, and that was a terrible idea. I'm not a good blonde." She shook her head at the memory. "So, in horror I dyed it blue."

"_Blue_?"

"Yes, and that wasn't great either. It was too light. I did a darker shade later, which was much better." The tablet laid on her lap, she reached behind her head, undid her bun, and re-styled her hair into a ponytail, so she could study the fading streak. "I started consistently dying my whole head red about when I started working for you. I liked that the best. And then you're about to turn thirty, your hair is barely holding on for dear life and it's no longer socially acceptable to function as a human stop sign. So, the red has to go."

"But you kept a streak."

"I kept a streak." She ran her fingers through the ponytail. "But I think I'm ready to let that go too. It's time for a change."

Gabriel smiled. "Now's the night for it, isn't it?"

She blinked, blue eyes glowing with recognition. "Oh right, I suppose it is."

Gabriel asked, "Do you usually make any New Year's resolutions?"

"No. If you feel the need to change something about yourself, why wait for the beginning of a new year? This –" she pointed to the side of her head " – is just a coincidence."

"I guess it can be poetic," he replied, "But I know exactly what you mean."

"Resolutions are performative," she went on, "I have a hard time believing anyone is taking themselves seriously when they make one."

As he leaned back in his chair, Gabriel felt something shift on the inside of his jacket. His jaw hardened, and he looked to the floor.

"Oh, did I just ruin something for you?" she asked.

"What?"

"Were you going to make a resolution? That's fine, I didn't mean to discourage you."

"You haven't discouraged me of anything," he insisted.

"Well, good, that's the true test of a resolution, then, that you're _resolute_." She leaned over the arm of her chair, propping her chin up on her hand. "What is it?"

"Hm?"

"What's your resolution, Gabriel?" She gazed at him curiously, one eye in shadow, the other in the firelight, and both shimmering at him, a crystal and a firmament respectively. His stomach fluttered, he pressed a hand to his ribs, felt for the folded sheet of paper hidden from view.

"I'll tell you later," he said, but this only piqued her interest more. "It's too early."

Reluctantly, her gaze shifted back to her tablet. "I see. You'll tell me at midnight. Always a planner."

Gabriel felt his cheeks become warm. "You know me," he mumbled under his breath.

He raised the cup of tea to his lips. It had gone cold while he had been captivated by her, so he finished it off quickly and offered to bring her own empty cup to the kitchen.

Alone now, he set the two cups in the sink and removed the letter from his jacket.

In fine, curling strokes of blue ink, he had written her name.

_Nathalie_

Nathalie, how badly he wanted her to be his. He thought he would be able to wait longer, he thought he would need more time. In four months, nothing had really changed but for the ache in his heart to hold her in his arms. It was an ache that only deepened until every beat of his heart was a beat of longing.

He survived by telling himself he had other things to fix. His relationship with Adrien, the walls…

Adrien was stunned when he received his Christmas gift, his eyes going wondrously wide at the two personalized knitted hats he had removed from the gift bag. As a last-minute detail, Gabriel had stitched his son's name on the ladybug hat, and Marinette's on the cat.

"I figured you wouldn't want to be obvious," he had remarked.

Adrien had no words. He enveloped his father in a tight embrace, held him for half a minute before pulling away and beaming like the tree they sat beneath. He looked, Gabriel thought for the first time, a little like himself. Maybe it was the surprise, or the lopsided but endearing smile stretched across his face as he admired the gifts and sent a photo of them to Marinette. His son had always felt so far away, but Gabriel realized that that smile might actually be just a bit familiar.

Nathalie, of course, had been right. It did mean a lot to him. Over four months ago – hell, just over a week ago – Gabriel might not have allowed himself to believe it. How could he believe it? How could he let himself think he was capable of sparking that bright and jubilant expression? Yet, here it was, shining directly at him, and Gabriel had thought daringly, maybe there was less to fix than he had once anticipated?

Maybe Adrien was forgiving him.

Maybe he already had.

And the walls, well, walls could be left behind. It never would have struck him as an option back in August. In fact, the idea had sprung into being rather unexpectedly just a few days ago. Nathalie caught him staring at the family portrait in the dining room, and when she inquired after his state of mind, he told her, very suddenly –

"I think I might want to move."

He'd shocked Nathalie in the past, but this was something else. She nearly choked on the cough drop she had tossed in her mouth a moment earlier, inciting a fit reminiscent of the days the peacock miraculous was still hurting her. When it was over, she actually started laughing, though by the way her eyes lit up with panic, he could tell the outburst had hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to – I don't know where that – "

"It's fine," she gasped. "You just – surprised me."

"I surprised myself."

She took another moment to compose herself completely, smooth out her hair and her blazer. "Do you really mean that?"

He considered it. Truly, the thought seemed to leave his mouth before it had even entered his head, but the longer he replayed the statement through his mind, the more it began to make sense. It was almost terrifying. Anyone could tell that Gabriel was not a man for change, but somehow, he had started to feel the earth shift beneath his feet, and he found himself wanting to follow it, little by little, and then by great leaps. And this house, it was rooted to the ground.

Gabriel reread the letter. He'd composed it all at once the night before, quite literally flung himself out of bed, grappling for a pen and paper. Every time a piece of him started to feel the embarrassment for his longing, the whole would smother it like a flame beneath the sole of his shoe. He loved Nathalie. He loved Nathalie, and she loved him too, and the worst fear eating at him as he hovered over the kitchen sink was that he had made a misspelling error in his passionate fervor.

Miraculously, there were no mistakes to be found. In relief, Gabriel felt for the butterfly brooch pinned beneath his tie. It reminded him a lot of Nooroo.

Nathalie had been right once again. He missed Nooroo

Folding the letter once more and slipping it inside his jacket, Gabriel returned to the dining room and his reading. Every now and then, he and Nathalie would lull into a brief and mundane conversation, all of which ended with rather sudden lapses into silence. He kept a close eye on the time, which couldn't pass quickly enough. At nine-thirty, he became anxious in the quiet and turned on some light, fluttery piano music, just to play softly in the background. At ten, Adrien texted him a photo of himself and Nino, which she showed Nathalie to earn a faint smile.

Then, she started to tire. Honestly, he was impressed she had lasted as late as she did, with how fatigue still crept up on her, made heavy her eyelids by the late afternoon on some days.

He saw her nodding off out of the corner of his eye and reached over to set a hand on her knee.

"Nathalie."

"Hm?" She blinked rapidly at him. Her own hand closed over his. The coolness of her skin made his heart skip a beat.

"If you're tired, you don't have to…"

"What? No, I'm okay," she mumbled.

"You're half-asleep. If you want, you can take to your usual room."

"I'd rather stay up with you."

"There's not much you'd be missing."

She smiled, leaning forward. He placed his other hand on her shoulder, gestured with his head to the sofa across from her. "Nathalie, just rest. I'll wake you up when it's midnight, if that's what you're concerned about."

"You have to tell me your resolution."

"Oh, you're quite curious then?"

"Very. You've always told me your secrets."

He withdrew as she rose to her feet, unbuttoning her blazer and folding it neatly over the armchair she was leaving behind. Nathalie drifted to the sofa and laid across, placing her glasses on the ottoman in front of her.

"Wake me, Gabriel."

"I will."

Time passed even slower now.

* * *

In October, they nearly gave in.

After an uneventful morning, Nathalie was overwhelmed suddenly by a wave of dizziness that nearly took her off her feet. It had unnerved the both of them; she hadn't fallen for many weeks, but after reaching out to steady her, Gabriel offered to take her to her usual room.

She had just returned full time to her apartment, but she was comfortable with the room, and Gabriel was comfortable having her there. It was better than letting her work. He was eased that she was beginning to accept her weakness wasn't a burden, and more importantly, that it wasn't what she deserved.

He hadn't carried her this time, but she put an arm around him, and he walked her slowly to the room. They were careful not to alarm Adrien, who would have been much more worried than either of them. Gabriel had brushed the hair off her forehead once she was seated on the bed, and perhaps, his fingers had lingered on her skin a half-second too long. Her eyes keyed into his, blinked quickly, and he drew his hand away.

Gabriel turned to leave, but as soon as his back was to her, her grip fastened over his wrist.

For a moment, he stood frozen. It was strange, what had happened that same second her hand had made contact. It was as if, immediately, the wall between their consciousnesses had collapsed, and he knew exactly what she was asking for. Her thoughts rolled over his body on passage to his mind, and he felt a chill run between their extended arms; he felt it crawl up his neck and into his scalp.

_Stay…_

He couldn't. In ten minutes, he had to call into a meeting. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't.

_Hold me. _

He did want to, of course.

_I need you here._

More than anything.

Gabriel's gaze was fixed on the open doorway, sight flying out into the hall and running its way down every line and every edge he could find, because if he listened to her or to himself and turned around, then he was gone, they were both gone. And even the walls of her room drilled holes into his head. They were daring him crumble, to use her to bury the pain still festering in his heart, pain he didn't know was even right for him feel. How long was he to wait? What more was he to do? Who the hell was he even grieving anymore?

It was an unsettling question that sent a dull agony through his chest. He knew the answer whenever he looked in the mirror. Otherwise, he seemed to be wandering aimlessly through the dark. Was it a light that he searched for, or a hand to hold, or dip in the earth? Either way, the person at the other end of that tunnel was the one he had his back to now, whose grip on his wrist was slowly weakening as she read his thoughts the way he had read hers.

He was walking towards her.

But he feared the path was too short, too easy, too much of something he didn't deserve.

_It's okay…_

He knew it, but he didn't listen.

_Not yet. _

He had shut her in the dark to rest and continued to stumble on his own.

* * *

Briefly, he had gone back to the atelier to pass the rest of the time with sketching, but nothing was of any use to him. He'd started writing her name, erasing it, writing it again. Adrien had sent Gabriel another photo: Marinette fallen asleep against Alya's shoulder. _I don't know how she drifted off with all this music!_he'd written.

Gabriel smiled.

It was ten minutes to midnight. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the hall from the atelier back to the dining room. Nathalie was where he left her. For a moment, he admired the calm on her face, the shine of her lips and her hair in the low light. Then he knelt before her, prodding her shoulder gently.

"Nathalie," he called.

She stirred awake, mouth stretching open in a yawn. Gabriel handed Nathalie her glasses and she sat up, flattening her hair against the side of her head. He took a seat beside her, and her eyes widened in surprise at just how close he sat, knee to knee.

"I have something for you," he told her, and she seemed a little bewildered by the warmth in his voice. Her eyes followed his hand as it reached into his jacket and removed the letter, presenting it so her name was facing her.

"What's this?" she wondered, voice still hoarse from sleep. She plucked the sheet of paper from his grasp and hesitated to open it. "Is this what you meant by 'you'd tell me later'? I hadn't expected that you wrote it down."

"It's for you."

"I can see." She took one last glance at him, and her guard lowered upon seeing the faint and earnest smile on his face. Nathalie sighed. "Okay…"

She unfolded the letter, began reading. Gabriel's heart pounded in his chest.

_My dear Nathalie, _

_I assure you, I intended to get you a Christmas gift. I would tell you how long I spent looking for one, but if you knew, you would roll your eyes, I'm certain of it. You're well aware of how unfortunate I am at gift-giving. I got lucky this year, but Adrien has suffered for it on however many birthdays I survived before handing the duty off to you; though – forgive me for saying it – you don't seem to be much better at it than I am. At least that is something we have in common. Some might find it endearing. _

_However, your gift to me this Christmas, I loved. I know you, and I know you would not have given me such a thing if you were not sure of yourself I would love it. The brooch is perfect, Nathalie. I've worn it every day. Perhaps, you haven't been able to tell because I keep it hidden. I do not know how Adrien would feel about it. Things are improving between us at last, to my immense relief. I believed he deserved to hate me forever, but I am so satisfied to know that is not the case. It is for the best that I am letting him go, letting him exist outside this house. I won't lie and say it is easy, but I think it has helped that you have encouraged me to take some small steps in the past. I could not have done this on my own. Now, I see Adrien smile at me, and it feels different. It feels honest. I don't think he knows how much I love him. To be fair, I don't think I've ever truly acknowledged how much he loves me. I await the day we finally reach equilibrium. All I could long for is peace, and the chance to believe I deserve those smiles. _

_I'll stop beating around the bush. The New Year arrives tonight, and I'm so happy you're here to share it with me. You've spent many holidays with us, and I've always felt a little guilty for it, despite your insistence that there is nowhere else you would rather be. I believe I had taken that for granted. Now, I want you here. I always want you here. This house doesn't feel like home anymore, but it's always so much better when you are present. Without you, it is missing an organ, a vital piece of itself. There is no imagining any of this today had you not been there for me and my family all these years. You're just as much a part of this place as I am, as Adrien is, and I know that wherever we go, you will make us feel whole. _

_In August, you told me you loved me. And not quickly enough, I said it back. I must say it again. I'll say it a million times. I love you, Nathalie, with the entirety of my soul, and I don't want to go on without being able to say, every chance I get, how dear you are to me. I've never liked the idea of a New Year's resolution. Typically, they can be so trite and superficial. So, if I make a resolution, I intend it to be deep and true and unshakable. This year, and every year forward, I resolve to love you dearer than myself; I resolve to put you and Adrien first, before my work, before my goals; I resolve to protect you at any cost, just as you swore to do for me; I resolve to stop loving with fear and start loving with hope and courage and selflessness and all of the things you taught me; I resolve to never let you go; I resolve to be yours. _

_To say these last few months have been difficult is an understatement, and you know that better and harder than anyone. Forgive me, my dear, for everything. You deserve to stop waiting. You deserve to heal. You deserve to move forward. All I can hope is that you will do it with me. All the way to the end. And even further._

_Yours (if you wish), _

_Gabriel._

When she had finished reading, she looked up to him, her eyes wide and astonished. She inhaled sharply as if surprised to see him staring at her with such love. He watched a smile break across her blushing face like the rosy light of dawn. His chest fluttered. That countenance – the surprise and amazement and love – he hoped he would never forget. Why did it feel so long since he had last seen her this happy? Had she ever looked this happy? Had she ever beamed this brightly with betraying a deep and steady sorrow?

"Gabriel," she said, holding a few fingers to her lips. "It's beautiful."

"I know it isn't really a gift."

"It's all I could ask for." Her eyes flitted across the page again, and softly, a laugh rippled through the room, full of wonder. "Wow," she breathed, "Things have never quite gone to plan for us, have they?"

He moved closer. "No, not at all." For a moment, she paused, and then, as the first tears finally trailed down her cheeks, she laid her head on his shoulder, pressing her body against his while his arm feel snugly around her. He listened to the relief in her sigh, the casting off of so many months of pain and misdirected hope; the weight of the life she had never believed belonged to her, and the life she had been willing to give, all contained in the depth of her trembling breath. Gabriel held her close, shutting his eyes and feeling nothing but the warmth of her body upon his own. "Hawkmoth? Two years of failure and treachery? Adrien being Chat Noir? Giving up? I'd certainly never planned on any of that. And somehow, falling in love with you, my dear, has been the biggest surprise of them all, but truth be told, I don't know if I could have resisted it."

"You're so sentimental," she whispered.

"Is that another surprise?"

"No, I've always known. It's one of the reasons I fell for you." Gabriel felt her shifting and opened his eyes. His arm still around her, she had sat with her chin perched on her knee, gazing at him. The smile on her face was solemn, and he could tell by the small movements of her eyes as they surveyed the details of his face that her mind was at work with memory. After a moment, she hummed with thought. "Now that," she murmured, "was most definitely not what I had planned. Admittedly, I think I loved you long before I realized I wanted to be _with_you."

"Really?" he asked, stroking his finger along the curve of her spine.

"At your side was the first place I ever felt that I truly belonged." As she spoke, her eyes glittered adoringly. "But I never thought I would have feelings quite like this. Every time I look at you, I think to myself, how did I get here?"

"You and me both, Nathalie."

"But I couldn't possibly see myself anywhere else. Oh, Gabriel, I've loved you for years. You're my home."

"Darling." He nudged her close once more, and as she settled under his amorous embrace, she pressed a kiss to his jaw. "I love you."

"Always."

His phone buzzed on the ottoman, and both Gabriel and Nathalie turned their heads to regard a message from Adrien reading, _Happy New Year!_

"It's midnight," he remarked, and before she could reply, his lips hovered barely an inch from her own. Nathalie smiled, released a low, sultry laugh and his fingers curled around her waist. She rested a hand on his cheek, and he leaned into the warmth.

"Happy New Year, Gabriel."

"Happy New Year, my dear Nathalie."

Their lips met, and then got to know each other. It was like they didn't know how long they had been waiting. Gabriel's heart raced, he smiled through the kiss, he could see her though his eyes were closed, he could feel her like her body was his.

When they pulled away, breathless, their heads turned to the window, to the snowfall still shrouding their world in white, a world that was beginning again, right under their feet.

"I love snow," she whispered.

They watched, they waited, though they had everything.

* * *

At 1:10 am, Adrien launched himself through the front door, certain that his father would be there to admonish him for being late, but he was surprised to find the foyer dark and empty.

"Father?" he called.

After removing his wet snow boots, he found the atelier was just as dark, but Plagg tugged on his collar and pointed towards the dining room and the pale yellow light spilling out from under the door.

He entered cautiously. The fireplace was bright and gentle music was playing low. Most of the other lights were dim. Plagg drifted ahead of him towards the center of the room, then paused in midair once he was in view of the couch. Adrien saw him roll his eyes, flick his tongue out of his mouth in disgust.

Chuckling, he joined Plagg, who floated to sit at the top of his holder's knitted hat. His father and Nathalie laid across the sofa, both fast asleep, glasses askew on their faces. She was wrapped in his arms, her head laid on his chest, while the side of Gabriel's face was pressed against the sofa cushion, hands clasped together right behind her waist. Adrien grinned at the swell of affection that bloomed in his chest. They looked comfortable. They looked like they belonged.

Adrien approached them quietly, shushing Plagg. He carefully removed their glasses and set them on the ottoman beside the couch. He noticed a folded sheet of lined paper, retrieved a pen, and wrote, _I'm home. Love you guys. – Adrien_

He turned off the gas fireplace and went. The snowfall was easing into a gentle flurry outside. In the morning, the sun would reflect off the white surface in a bright cool blaze. It would be a new day. Everything had changed, and in some beautiful and extraordinary way, nothing at all.


End file.
